The Man in Her Life
by penmom
Summary: Complete. Trip undergoes a series of changes as he and T'Pol check out a mystery on a Vulcan outpost.
1. Default Chapter

The Man in Her Life A Sequel to A Woman in His Life  
  
Chapter One - My Mind to Your Mind  
  
By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- (1) This takes place after the resolution of the Xindi conflict but without the final Nazi cliffhanger.  
  
The plotline of A Woman in His Life continues here so newbies may want to back up.  
  
(2) I am going back to grad school so this may be slow in coming. Feedback will help my speed but may hurt my grades!  
  
(3) Hi to those who kept up previously including: Nemo, Eratta, plumtuckered, Nala, the Adminal, Kittytryspin, Alison M. Dobel, Empress , Tripgrl13, Nikitee, Snow Queen, Frankie Moore, Skully, Peter de Lange, Argeo, Zealousgirl, MacKenzie, Cool Cat, Carolyn DesRoches, Deborah, Lesa and on -.  
  
(4) This first chapter is a bit of a review and a start to this story. Think of it as one of those awful sitcom episodes which is really a bunch a reruns glued together.  
  
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There had been a time - actually not too long ago when --- well, suffice to say he wouldn't have dreamed that he'd be here with his wife.

The world of complexities and change that one word encompasses is immense.  
  
As she lies beside him, resting peacefully after a particularly aggressive session of lovemaking, he can't help but reflect on the changes in his life yet one more time.  
  
His Dad had joked that marriage would change a guy and boy, he wasn't kiddin'. Accordin' to Phlox, he was close to bein' a card carrin' Vulcan or at least as close as a former human could be.  
  
He recalls the words all too well - must be the enhanced Vulcan memory - "your connection with T'Pol has substantially altered your neural cortex and thereby your metabolic functioning."  
  
The physical changes stopped short of growin' pointed ears but if the truth were told the alterations were much deeper than that. He found that he was more contemplative now. Not that he wasn't as outgoing as ever - no he still liked people. It wasn't that - it was just that his mind was always tickin'. It was easy to lose track of the guy across the table from you when you were refigurin' the engines in the back of your mind.  
  
His productivity had increased and he was happier that he'd been in forever. Still, he had to admit he had lost something. He could see it in the way his crew looked at him. He wasn't one of them anymore. They regarded him with not a small amount of awe and curiosity. Once it would have bothered him - the distance that is. But now, he sees that given the past months, it was inevitable. And he has gained so much, he can't regret it.  
  
He's a different man. And he'd do it again in a heartbeat. With that thought he falls asleep.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
The sound of the comm jars the quiet of their quarters. T'Pol is awake in a flash, him - it takes a minute. By the time, he wakes, whatever was said is finished and she is out of bed.  
  
"Huh?" he manages.  
  
"It was the Ensign assigned to Interstellar Communications for this shift. She has received a Level Three Encrypted message from Vulcan. She thought it best to alert me immediately."  
  
Trip swings his legs out of bed.  
  
She calls out from the bathroom. "It is unnecessary for you to wake as well. It is roughly three hours until you need to prepare for duty."  
  
"Naaa, I'm up. I'm always up for news from Vulcan." He can't help but contribute a pointed comment. It was the least he could do given the less than ecstatic comments that had come in response to their marriage.  
  
TBA


	2. Chapter 2 Cowardly Comfort

The Man in Her Life  
  
Chapter Two Cowardly Comfort  
  
By Penmom  
  
(1) Thanks to everyone who has emailed and reviewed. To answer several questions about posting at The House of Tucker. I love the site T/T'P site too but they chose not to post A Woman in His Life previously, so I imagine they will pass on this one too. They felt like my style wasn't quite what they usually hosted. Feel free to archive if you wish - just let me know where.

(2) Goin' on vacation - be back next week. Same bat time - same bat channel.

He was still bleary eyed when they got to the bridge. He hadn't bothered to lobby for stopping by the mess for coffee. He didn't need to be telepathic to see that she wanted to get here and see what was going on.  
  
And just as he had accepted the changes that their relationship had brought, she had as well. In their own ways, they were both nomads - strangers in their own lands, subjects of speculation and conjecture – some of which wasn't so benign. It had struck him as humorous that the reactions from their very different families were so remarkably similar. All in all it was a good thing that they had married aboard Enterprise. This bucket of bolts was home – at least for the foreseeable future.  
  
"You are uncharacteristically quiet, as I said you did not need to accompany me." Her voice rouses him from his thoughts and he moves a tad closer to her. She is uncomfortable with physical affection in public but hey, his mama always said that only tacky girls hung all over you in public. Still, she finds his nearness soothing.  
  
The Ensign enters in the necessary coordinates and Vulcan Symbol for their home world Space Exploration Council pops on the small screen at the comm desk for several seconds. And the time, the figure of a stately, middle age Vulcan woman appears. She looks --- well, Trip thinks she looks formidable.  
  
Before he can finish his thought, he feels T'Pol confirming his hasty opinion. Focusing inward, he is able to access some of T'Pol's knowledge of this woman.  
  
"T'Pol." When she speaks, her voice is almost flat in its neutrality but still Trip can't help but pick up an underlying tone of censorship. Hell, he's probably just bein' paranoid. Well, OK, no --- he isn't being paranoid as he senses T'Pol's praise of his intuitiveness.  
  
(((((((((((

T'Pol stands straight as she faces the small camera that will beam her image back to Vulcan. It is quite rare for the Vulcan High Command to use this form of communication especially since her resignation. For a second she feels a bit ill at ease with her appearance, seeing herself through her kinsman's eyes. The Enterprise Uniform, her longer, more feminine hair --- she did not need to imagine what the woman's opinion was.  
  
Knowing this, she also knows that whatever has brought the Vulcan High Command to her door cannot be good.  
  
With a slight nod of respect, she answers, "Greetings, Commissioner Bach'Tal. May the Enterprise be of service to you?" She intentionally chooses the whole of Enterprise over her singular self, finding cowardly comfort in her association - an association by choice rather than birth.  
  
Never one to be verbose, the Vulcan High Commissioner over Scientific Outposts, Bach'Tal speaks quickly only allowing for the briefest of explanations.  
  
"You are familiar with the Vulcan Outpost on TerraZed 4 in the Zearon system. It is a small colony of geologists and other scientists. There are several promising minerals indigenous to the planet. One in particular, LS12, is of interest. The leader of the team researching LS12, a Dr. Kochi, was found dead earlier today. The death was quite suspicious. Given Enterprise's current position, we are requesting your assistance in visiting the colony to support the investigation into the circumstances surrounding Kochi's death."  
  
She tries to assimilate both the words in Bach'Tal's communication, as well as, the unsaid messages. She is suddenly quite thankful for Trip's presence just out of the line of the camera, such areas were more of his expertise. Her years of discipline cloak any sign of surprise or trepidation.  
  
"I will need to confer with Captain Archer. I will contact you no later than 0900 hours." She offers no respectful words of closing, but ends the exchange with her reply. With that, the screen goes blank.  
  
Unbidden, Trip's critique comes to her - There ya' go Darlin', give her as good as ya' get. What did she do without him?  
  
Turning to look at his beloved face, it is still hard to believe that he is hers in mind and body. After this rude awakening, his sleepy face warms her. She would like nothing better than to curl back around is warm body for the remainder of the night.  
  
Picking up on her inclination, his mouth curls into what she now knows is a smirk. Before Trip, she had no idea of the multiple shades of smiles that could grace a human face.  
  
He stands there patiently awaiting her movement. Suddenly they both are aware that they hold the attention of the entire third shift bridge crew. Her face undergoes a subtle shift and she's suddenly all business. She speaks as she moves off of the bridge, "Commander, I would suggest that we not disturb the Captain with this appeal until our morning staff meeting."  
  
He doesn't answer her until the turbo lift doors close. As she turns to him, she notes that the slight smirk has now progressed to a certain mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Fighting off a yawn, he drawls, "So Mrs. Tucker how do you suppose we pass the time until the 0800 staff meeting?"  
  
TBC


	3. Chapter 3 Otherworldly

The Man in Her Life  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Otherworldly

By Penmom  
  
Thanks to all. TRULY  
  
His blood is running high by the time, they reach their quarters. He tries to put a damper on his desire as he reads her preoccupation with the message from Vulcan. Something is definitely off to be sure and it doesn't take any extra sensory perception to catch that fact.  
  
Once the door to their quarts slides shut, she heads straight to the terminal at the desk. Over her shoulder, he watches as she quickly accesses the Vulcan database for information regarding TerraZed 4. He mourns the fact that this isn't how he imagined spending the wee, small hours of the morning with his wife.  
  
Observing her tense posture as she perches on the edge of her seat, he thinks to himself, oh well, if you can't beat um'---. And with that he swings a long leg over the seat of her chair so that she is sitting between his thighs. He slides an arm around her waist and settles her more firmly against him. After a moment or two, he feels her relax into his embrace as she continues to read the information in front of her.  
  
Realizing that his distraction has not proved great enough to dissuade her, he snuggles his chin over one shapely shoulder and begins to read too.  
  
%%%%%%%%%  
  
0600 hours comes quickly, stretching as he stands, he quips to T'Pol "Bet no Vulcan has ever had attentional problems."  
  
She looks adequately perplexed by the statement. He lets it slide. It's nice to know that she can't figure out every obscure reference he can throw her way.  
  
"I was saying that it amazes me how much my concentration has improved since --- well, everything. When I apply myself it just kind of sinks in. I always thought you were kinda' spooky that way - how you could shut everything else out like that."  
  
She stands as she absently peels off the uniform that she donned in the middle of the night. Tilting her head, she considers him before replying. "And this is what you consider a complement? That I am 'spooky'? It is my understanding that spooky denotes a disconcerting, otherworldly quality."  
  
Peeling off his own shirt, he approaches her with a grin. Oh, how he loves this girl.  
  
"Otherworldly? You? Never." He proclaims as he catches her in his arms.  
  
When he pulls her into his arms, he does so with a fierceness that belies the tenderness in his eyes. In the 97 days since their marriage ceremony, their sexual relationship has continued to flare. Their physical need for each other has continued unabated burning away whatever self-consciousness is left between them waning.  
  
Despite being awake for quite awhile, they barely make the 0800 staff meeting on time. Trip ignores the slight smirk on Malcolm's face.  
  
Jon calls the morning meeting to order before he's even poured his coffee. While the usual mundane ship's business is reviewed, both Trip and T'Pol are thinking of the information that they had gotten off the Vulcan database earlier.  
  
Dr. Kochi's death was actually just the latest in a series of suspicious incidents on TerraZed 4. The Vulcan Outpost had been plagued with unexplained communications failures and instrument malfunctions since LS12 was first isolated. The exact properties of LS12 were still veiled in secrecy and were unobtainable from the basic Vulcan database. Whatever it was, it was valuable. Maybe valuable enough to merit sabotage and murder - even among Vulcans.  
  
All speculation halted when Jon gave the floor to T'Pol. She quickly briefed the Senior Officers on both the appeal she had received from Commissioner Bach'Tal and the information she had gathered since. Ever true to her nature, she leaves out her own suspicions, allowing each individual to make their own judgements.  
  
Malcolm is the first to chime in as he addresses the group. "What I question is why the Vulcan High Command would be coming to us? I mean, last I checked T'Pol wasn't high on their list."  
  
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he is regretting them. Looking beseechingly toward both T'Pol and Trip, he awkwardly apologizes, "My Lord, T'Pol, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean..."  
  
T'Pol comes to his rescue, interrupting his apology with a hint of warmth in her voice, "No offense taken, you are correct. I have given the matter some thought myself."  
  
"And?" Jon asks.  
  
"I hypothesize that the High Command would like whatever is found, to be kept quiet. Calling for an official investigation through the usual channels would only call attention to an already growing problem. Given my current status, I am both a Vulcan and an outsider - able to provide a degree of reliability and also capable of providing them with an alternative to a widely publicized investigation."  
  
Trip finally speaks after an uncharacteristic silence. "Well, I don't like it one bit, after they the way they've acted, you sure as hell aren't obligated to jump when they say so. Period."  
  
T'Pol turns her attention to him. "I appreciate your loyalty but the High Command has requested the Enterprise's assistance not simply my own. It is a decision for the Captain."  
  
The expression on Jon's face displays his slight irritation at T'Pol throwing the proverbial ball in his court. He couldn't help but feel like he had been dropped in the midst of a Lovers' Quarrel. "Ahh well, given the diplomatic ties between our two worlds and the proximity of the colony to our current position. I would say that their appeal is reasonable."  
  
TBC


	4. Chapter 4 Unbidden Companions

The Man in Her Life  
  
Chapter Four Unbidden Companions

Thanks to those of you that have taken time to review!

By Penmom  
  
T'Pol does her best to display a stoic expression. She intentionally blurs her eyes as she stares at the image in front of her. An old but effective childhood trick, it is easier to not show emotion if you are not truly looking at the individual in front of you. Emotionally, she retreats as far back as she can as she awaits the 0900 response from Vulcan.  
  
Feelings of doubt, hurt – even betrayal float through her consciousness. These unbidden companions bring another emotion with them – panic. How can she face one of the very ones who have shunned her – like this?

Before she can form another thought a wave of strength and reassurance runs through her. Trip.  
  
She cannot imagine that she will ever become accustomed to his presence in her mind. Even four decks down in engineering, he can feel her unrest. Beyond their psychic connection, the fact that he chooses to reach out to her remains the greatest miracle. Reaching out to a mate on Vulcan would certainly be considered impolite at the very least. To acknowledge that one could pick up another's vulnerabilities would be insulting to both parties. But Trip, to Trip the ability to sense her emotions is a gift. The only thing alien to him would be sensing her distress and not reacting.  
  
"Sub Commander T'Pol?" The regal voice of Commissioner Bach'Tal rouses her from her internal dialogue.  
  
She acknowledges the elder Vulcan with a slight nod, "Commissioner Bach'Tal, I trust you are prosperous." Despite her words of traditional goodwill, her voice is flat. It strikes her as ironic that such a tone would be considered disrespectful abroad Enterprise but is perfectly acceptable to the Commissioner.  
  
"You have spoken to your Captain?"  
  
"He is aware of your request. I was able to provide him with additional information from my own research." She added the last comment as an intentional jibe given the minimal information that Bach'Tal had provided.  
  
"Ahh yes, I gathered as much. You were always a curious student."  
  
The comment stings but with Trip's bravado coursing through her veins, she responds quickly and with confidence. "I was not aware that this was test."  
  
For the briefest second, Bach'Tal seems taken aback by T'Pol's response but makes no comment.  
  
"Your Captain? He has made his decision?"  
  
"Considering the proximity of the Zearon system to Enterprise's current course, he is willing consider the possibility of providing some assistance." She is intentionally vague in her response; two can play this game.  
  
"The possibility of some assistance. Explain."  
  
T'Pol holds her head up a fraction of a inch higher, "As I noted previously, much of our information regarding the circumstances on TerraZed 4 came from my own research. Without a clear picture of the situation, any assistance would most likely prove less than optimal."  
  
Seeming to tire of the give and take, Bach'Tal responds with as a few words as possible. "Very well, the High Council's records regarding the events on TerraZed 4 will be forth coming. I will expect to hear from Enterprise once the ship is within one earth day of the system. Bach'Tal out."  
  
With Trip's personality running through her, T'Pol fights off an impulse to stick her tongue out at the now blank screen.  
  
TBC


	5. Chapter 5 Feelings that Supercede Logi...

The Man in Her Life  
  
By Penmom

Chapter 5 Feelings that Supercede Logic  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks to those of you who have read and reviewed my work now and in the past. I know everybody says it but it does truly help and inspire. My story is heating up with this chapter so I am very interested in hearing what everyone thinks of this new twist. I hope to get another chapter out before too long so I'd love the feedback. To JennaTripped - I tried to make this longer. Thanks Anna Y - I hope this will hook you again! Also hi to Skye 1974, Cherilyn, Dodie and all AND Tracy what is it with the Cubes? I'll catch you ALL later.

For the umteenth time in so many hours, Trip reaches out to T'Pol. Their connection never ceases to amaze him. God forbid he ever takes it for granted. After feelin' so alone...well, he was gettin' used to havin' her rambin' around in his head.  
  
He shakes his head; it's still no go. Oh she was there and all but she wasn't exactly broadcasting her thoughts. He knew enough about how things worked to know that she was deliberately shielding from him. Generally she didn't monitor her internal dialogue from him nor he from her. You didn't have to hear it all the time, mind you but you could pop in and out whenever you wanted to. But now when he tuned in – so to speak – he only got some emotional static.  
  
OK, if that was the game - emotional static it was. Taking his hands off the values he had been calibrating, he focused inward, allowing his external world to fall away. For a second, he reflected on how these actions – these alien talents – came so naturally to him. As if the propensity had always been within him just waiting for her.  
  
He just had to believe that it – them – their relationship wasn't just random. That there was a piece of the divine involved. There had to be – period. Maybe he was just channeling his inner Southern Baptist but he believed that God – that ambiguous presence in the universe that meant so many things to so many races – had a personal hand in this. Egocentric maybe – but hell, a man had to figure out just how he had ended up so far from where he began. And it wasn't by chance.  
  
_OK Guy_, he chastises himself, _back to business_ – he prods his link to her. He feels her concentration; her wheels are turning for sure. She received a whole bunch of confidential exchanges from Vulcan earlier in the day and now she was sorting through it all – making plans and conclusions as she went AND for whatever reason she didn't want to let him in on something.  
  
Before he could stop himself, he's letting her know that he's on to her. He could feel her sigh with patient acceptance and reassuring him that as soon as she gathered her own thoughts that she would be sharing them with him. It would be imprudent to do so before she had mastered all the facts. She desired to review all the information from Vulcan prior to entering into a dialogue. With that, the static went back up as if the radio dial had lost its mark.  
  
_Women_.  
  
  
  
T'Pol allows herself a small break to stretch her muscles before settling back down in front of her terminal. As she reads, a rough plan begins to form. One that could allow for both access and anonymity - two things that seem necessary for success in this task. She admits to herself that her rather novel solution would most likely never have occurred to her if it wasn't for Trip. Unconsciously, she has begun to incorporate Trip – his physical presence, his resources, his strengths and his needs – into her own understanding of her own resources, her own powers so to speak.  
  
It is only logical. Together, joined as they are – they are more. More powerful, more able, more resourceful, more comprehensive --- more everything. Ahh yes, a voice in the back of her head – wholly her own voice – whispers – you must admit that yes, they are more together but she must not ignore her own feelings – yes feelings – for him. Feelings that supercedes logic and for that reason, she attempts to look at other options.  
  
Taking these feelings into account, she reminds herself that this attachment between them is anything but logical. In any situation involving Trip's well being, she can not assume that she will react in the most logical manner. And so, where does this leave her? The situation? Trip?  
  
It left her pondering one question – having nothing to do with the situation on TerraZed. How can something that makes you so strong, make you so vulnerable at the same time?  
  
  
  
Phlox attempted to contain his curiosity. What was she getting at?  
  
Since T'Pol entered Sick Bay 10 minutes ago, he has tried to answer her questions one by one without falling into a veritable swamp of conjecture. He feared he was failing – quite miserably, to the point that he has had to ask her to repeat herself several times.  
  
Clearing his throat, he focuses on her last question. "The time? The time such a procedure would take? All in all, not long at all especially if the cosmetic implants were not intended to be permanent."  
  
"An estimate, Doctor, if you would."  
  
"The procedure itself would take just over an hour. The recuperation period would be longer, I would imagine that there would be slight tenderness is the area for several days but nothing a mild analgesic could not counter effectively."  
  
He was just about to venture an inquiry into the motive behind her questions, this was not a woman who asked idle questions, when she spoke again.  
  
"Would you have time to perform this procedure on a crewman in the span of the next 24 hours?"  
  
"Ahh, yes, I would imagine so. If I may, who is this crewman?"  
  
She had already turned to leave when she answered, "Mr. Tucker."  
  
  
  
He's more than a little surprised to find her already in their quarters. He figured he'd be dragging her away from her dispatches tonight. But here she is – dressed for --- well not dressed for work that was for sure. The silk, the candles, the Gershwein in the background – Nice touch Polly – the wine on the table – after the busy signal all afternoon - something was up.  
  
She presents a pretty picture as she kneels, her eyes downcast as she lights a few final candles. Still, he can't bring himself to be flattered at this demure wife of his. No, something is up. And whatever it is, it isn't good.  
  
"Good Evening." She says as she grants him a glance. "I thought it would be satisfactory to have dinner in our quarters tonight. It will give us more time to discuss the appeal from Vulcan."  
  
He cocks his head to the side casting a quizzical look her way as he heads toward the bathroom. "Ya' mind if I grab a quick shower before we have this discussion?"  
  
"Not at all, I will prepare our meal while you bathe."  
  
He cocks an eyebrow her way before turning. He tries their link again – still static. This cannot be good. Before he can help himself he mumbles, "Guess the honeymoon's over."  
  
"Umm?"  
  
"Nothin', nothin' at all."  
  
  
  
Still feeling like a lamb led to the slaughter, he has enjoyed their meal and is now enjoying a massage that could only be classified as Neuropressure in the boardest sense of the word.  
  
He can't take it a minute longer.  
  
"OK Darlin', what's up? I appreciate the set-up and all but you can shoot straight with me, ya' know that."  
  
In response to his words, he can feel her shields slip. At first he can only pick up her emotions. The emotions are obscuring the actual thoughts but that's OK. The emotions tell him enough.  
  
"I'll be damned, you're worried. You're worried over something about this Vulcan mess." He wastes no time in turning and pulling her into his arms.  
  
She returns his embrace, grasping him hard enough of leave more than a few bruises. Pulling back, she looks him in the eye.  
  
"You are correct. I am acting illogical given the situation. I have simply to tell you of my findings and my conclusions as to the best way to proceed."  
  
She hesitates before continuing. This emotional communication is sticky business, as Hoshi would say. "I have developed a plan of action that would allow you and I both to infiltrate the colony without creating undue suspicion. Given the history of the colony ... I have surmised that it would be best if the investigation could take place without undue notice."  
  
"Sounds like a good plan and I certainly would prefer to back you up." He says and takes to rubbing her neck, hoping his touch will give her the confidence to continue.  
  
She nods to acknowledge his comment, "Yes, I was..." she struggles to identify the feeling and give voice to it. "I was hopeful that you would feel this way. Our connection may give us an advantage in the investigation."  
  
"I agree Darlin', no argument here. Still, you're tied up in knots. What gives? I'm in, ya' know that."  
  
He can reach her muscles tense in response, as if she is gathering her strength to continue. She rewards his declaration with her most stoic expression.  
  
"In order to join the enclave, we will require an adequate – what is the word? – 'cover'. After much consideration, I have concluded that we should join the station as a mated pair. Furthermore, I believe that it will cause less conjecture if we can blend in as much as possible. To this end, I have spoken with Dr. Phlox regarding two minor surgical procedures to aid you in appearing to be Vulcan."  
  
TBC 


	6. Chapter 6 Alterations

The Man in Her Life  
  
By Penmom  
  
Author's Notes: Again thanks to all that have given me feedback. Chapter 5 didn't generate too many reviews, hopefully, 6 will spark somebody's muse. Hope everybody's summer is going OK. My 9-year-old is at basketball camp this week at a local university (GO PACK) so lots of running around...  
  
Chapter 6 Alterations  
  
It is moment she has been dreading all day. Her plan, his reaction – it dredges up all of her worries. All of her worries and fears – of his rejection, of his distaste of her heritage, of her very appearance, of her overtaking his life, of his very physical being. And now after taking over his body, its functions, she is asking that he change his very appearance for her. And not to a neutral form but to a form that he must surely revile on some level.  
  
Briefly she thinks of how she would feel if their roles were reversed. The fact that she thinks of this at all shows her how much that he has altered her own internal life.  
  
She is roused from her thoughts by his very real touch.  
  
"Hold on Darlin' is this what this is all about? Ahhh, honey." With that she is once again crushed against his chest.  
  
Before she can help herself, tears pour from her eyes as the waves of his love and acceptance inundate her.  
  
"Honey, its OK, I understand. Its OK." He pulls her face back, bracing her shoulders with his hands so that he can look her in the eye. The tears streaming down her face give testament to her love for him.  
  
He reaches out to her in the best way he can think of, his fingers arching out to trace her brow, her cheekbone. Almost immediately he is inside, his consciousness joins with hers so that there is only one – one being with complete knowledge of thought, of experience, of feeling.  
  
His presence eases her vulnerabilities and rewards her with his utter joy at having her with him. In turn, she shares her own awe at the human ability to adapt. How could her race underestimate the humans so? Indeed it was Vulcan that would be found lacking as they came into contact with more and more species, not the humans.  
  
As always the sharing amplifies the blood heat until the need to mate overwhelms thought. His mind slides sinuously from hers as he presses her to the floor.  
  
  
  
After hours appeasing their need for each other, they lie together, hands clasped.  
  
"So you ready to talk?" he asks softly.  
  
He feels her nod against his chest but she makes no move to pull away from him. Instead she snuggles more furiously against him as she begins to speak.  
  
"Yes, it would be prudent to discuss the situation prior to the morning. We will be within one earth day's travel of TerraZed 4 by late tomorrow. If you and the Captain consent to my plans, then the doctor accommodate us in the morning."  
  
Sensing her heart rate increase at the mention of the doctor, he can't help but tease her a bit. "The idea of pointy ears really turns you on, huh?"  
  
She doesn't take the playful comment well, literally jumping for of his arms as she responds. "I find you quite ... quite satisfactory as you are. I have no wish to alter you in any fashion." Her voice turns husky as she continues to chastise him, "you know this, you have been in my mind." Pulling her back to him, he chuckles a bit as he answers, "I know, just fishin' for compliments."  
  
She graces his bare chest with a soft kiss as she retorts, "I would prefer you do your fishing elsewhere."  
  
  
  
Expecting Commander Tucker, Phlox took the liberty of spending a time the prior evening researching the most appropriate facial features for Tucker's existing bone structure. Actually the task was quite fascinating. Comparatively, there were only a few minor facial differences between the two humanoid species. Considering the wide array of possibilities, the procedures required were fairly minor. At least Commander Tucker was not Klingon or Dunublian for that manner.  
  
Given the relative simplicity of the actual procedures, Phlox was able to indulge in some more specific research into the various physical variations within the Vulcan species. Again, much like the races of Earth, there were minor differences within the greater Vulcan population based on evolutionary development across the three major continental masses on the planet.  
  
One of most basic principles in the field of cosmetic alterations for the purposes of exploration is to alter as little as possible in order to achieve the most realistic and comfortable results. To this end, he was heartened to find that, while a minority, 8.7% of the Vulcan species had coloring quite similar to Commander Tucker. This finding would simply the process even further and no doubt, meet the approval of Commander Tucker.  
  
Ah yes, Commander Tucker, he couldn't help but congratulate himself on the successful match. His great grandmother – a successful professional matchmaker – would be proud. If he could just find someone for the Captain...  
  
Unfortunately, Phlox is unable to expend any more thought on the matter as the Sick Bay doors slide open to allow both the Commander and T'Pol to enter.  
  
"Good Morning, Good Morning. Please take a seat. After speaking with Sub Commander T'Pol yesterday, I have taken the liberty of drawing up some preliminary plans. If they meet with your approval, we can by 0900 hours."  
  
  
  
Trip had to hand it to Phlox, he'd done his homework. Unfortunately, he was content to rattle off every mundane fact that he had unearthed. Hell, even T'Pol was wishin' he'd get on with it. With the downtime, he has plenty of time to reflect on the amusement on Jon's face when he heard T'Pol's plan. Oh, he wasn't going to live this one down for a long time to come.  
  
He could feel T'Pol give him the equivalent of a mental pinch prompting him to focus again. But you had to admit, even with Vulcan focus at his command, Phlox could be a little long winded. Still, he paid attention, it was his face after all.  
  
He was startled to see his likeness on the computer screen in front of him. He watched as, with a few clicks, Phlox explained his proposed alterations. In layman's terms, it consisted of a modified face-lift to provide his existing brows with a discernable slant verses any kind of makeup that could come off. This he could handle. The other procedure was a bit grosser. Essentially part of the skin of his ears would be pealed back and soft implants like human cartilage would be added. His own skin – along with some bio- synthetic skin - would be stretched over the implants. He would be sore for a day or two but there would be no discernible swelling or scarring. He didn't even have to go under for the procedures.  
  
When Phlox mentioned this, T'Pol piped up.  
  
"The time will allow us to review our cover story and our initial plans."  
  
Great, no rest for the weary – or the soon to be pointy eared.  
  
TBC 


	7. Chapter 7 Something Radical

The Man in Her Life A Sequel to A Woman in His Life  
  
Chapter 7

Something Radical

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- (1) This takes place after the resolution of the Xindi conflict but without the final Nazi cliffhanger. The plotline of A Woman in His Life continues here so newbies may want to back up.  
  
(2) I am going back to grad school so this may be slow in coming. Feedback will help my speed but may hurt my grades!

The three hours had swept by quicker than he would have guessed. But then again, T'Pol had told quite a tale. That little planet had sounded more like Payton Place than a Vulcan Science Outpost when she had finished. Trip had managed not to dwell on Phlox's work but had focused solely on T'Pol's voice. When he realized this fact, he caught the equivalent of a mental shrug from her, it was only then that he realized that she had exerted a bit of Vulcan mind control in order to keep him comfortable.

Faced with her spouse's accusatory emotions, T'Pol simply raised a single slanted brow. The confrontation went no further as Phlox's voice interceded.

"Well, Commander, I'd say we're all done here --- an excellent job if I don't say so myself ---" he hands a mirror to Trip as he speaks, "have a look."

As Trip raises the mirror, T'Pol rounds around to survey the results for herself. Truth be told, the hyper-focus that she had provided for the past three hours had been as much for her benefit as Trip's. Her first thought was that no matter how expedient the cosmetic approach was, the results were still unsettling.

&&&&&&&

His first thought was 'what took so long' but when he pulled the mirror further away from his face ---

"Well, I'll be damned ---"

It was still him but well, he was Vulcan. Flat out Vulcan no ifs ands or buts.

Maybe it would have been less of a shock if Phlox had done something radical - like die his hair, change his nose or something ---where he'd feel like he had on a Halloween mask with his real face safe and sound underneath. He'd be Trip in a mask but no --- this was different. This was his face staring back at him - right to the small u shaped scar on his chin from where he's tried to shave when he was six.

He tried to take it all in as if he were looking at a stranger but nope, it was him and still, not. His brows slanted up at a fierce angle, somehow giving him an arrogant demeanor. Likewise, the very edges of his eyes tilted up - no doubt a companion piece to the brows.

Moving the mirror to one side and than the other, he steadied himself to survey the real damage. There they were.

Like the rest - they were eerily familiar and totally alien at the same time. Something in his expression must have prompted Phlox to speak because the Doc began again but Trip missed it.

"What was that, Doc?"

"I was saying, that you may touch them, the skin graph took even better than I'd expected." The Doc did little to withhold his excitement over his latest masterpiece.

Unable to stop himself, Trip gently traced the points gracing his ears. He jumped at the jolt that accompanied the slight touch. What the ----?

The Doc jumped right back in. "Ahh yes, I approximated the neural pathways in the auditorial tissue to that of an adult Vulcan male."

The look on his face must have alerted the Doc that he required more of an explanation.

The Doc nodded toward T'Pol who was standing rather blankly by his side. "As with Vulcan females, the tip of the ear is considered an erroneous zone in which even a slight touch can trigger any number of ----" Distracted by T'Pol's expression, he cut Phlox off in mid-stream. "I got it, Doc." So, can I get up now?"

Something in Commander Tucker's expression said it was past time to release his patient. "Certainly, I would suggest that you not bathe until at least thirteen hundred hours as not to remove the topical analgesic."

By the time he had finished his orders, Commander Tucker was out of the chair and pulling a Florida Marlins hat out from somewhere - and summarily putting it on his head, pulling it down over his ears and brows.

She didn't venture a comment of any kind until the doors to the turbo lift slid shut. Not because she was worried so much as she was in shock.

It was unsettling. Logically, it should not bother her in the least. These were simply cosmetic changes - but seeing Trip here in front of her with Vulcan features, it was simply incongruent.

Part of her wanted to touch his face for herself, the other part wanted to apologize - seeing him like this - it felt like some kind of violation.

As was the usual case, whenever she felt vulnerable she broadcast her worries to him loud and clear. He broke into a smile and caught her in his arms. "Aww, Honey it's not that bad is it?"

She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. " 'Bad' would not be the word I would choose."

"And what would you use, 'Sexy'?" He said with a wink.

She didn't look to be in the mood.

"Disconcerting." She paused before continuing. "Charles, I am --- sorry that I suggested this course of action. If you wish to..."

He stops her by putting a finger to her lips.

"It's fine, really. Weird but fine."

He replaces his finger with his mouth pressing a firm kiss upon her lips. The Turbo Lift beeps as it announces that they have reached their destination. He pulls back and meets her troubled gaze.

"It's the hat, isn't it. You're a Yankee girl, I knew it."

Before she can respond, the door slides open.

"Commander, Sub Commander" Malcolm's dulcet tones greet them as they step off into the passageway.

Malcolm's gaze is firmly locked on the sight of Trip wearing a non-regulation baseball cap during duty hours - come to think of it, he's never seen Trip wear a hat - period.

He just couldn't leave it alone. "May I be of some service?" He asks in a pseudo-formal tone. "Take your hat perhaps?"

"Can it, Malcolm."

Something in the tone of Trip's voice warns him off and with no further comment the Security Officer allows the pair to leave unmolested.

Neither speaks again until they are further down the corridor.

"I was a little hard on Malcolm, huh?"

"Under the circumstances, I judged your reaction to be quite reasonable."

Trip winced a little, she must be feelin' real bad for him or else, she sure wouldn't be finding him bitin' Malcolm's head off 'reasonable'.

TBA


	8. Chapter 8 If the Shoe Fits

The Man in Her Life

A Sequel to A Woman in His Life  
  
Chapter 8

If the Shoe Fits

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- (1) This takes place after the resolution of the Xindi conflict but without the final Nazi cliffhanger. The plotline of A Woman in His Life continues here so newbies may want to back up.  
  
(2) I am hoping that slow and steady wins this race! I hope everybody is hanging on. Thanks to Trex Kitten, Twin-Lance, Jenna, narrxun for the reviews on Chapter 7. I hope you like this one too! Everybody let me know. I could use some encourage right about now. ENJOY -

With less than one day's travel between Enterprise and their designation, Trip and T'Pol had been granted relief from their regular duties in order to prepare for their away mission. The plan suited Trip just fine. Laying low until he could get his old ears back - that seemed like the best idea any way you looked at it.

He hadn't really hadn't lied to T'Pol when he'd reassured her that the whole overhaul didn't bother him. It was a small price to pay for providing her some cover down on the planet but his stomach turned at the thought of facing Malcolm and Travis made up like this. No, he'd rather not go there. And from the looks of it neither did T'Pol.

It was quite unusual to see T'Pol dressed in her silky pajamas before 1900 hours but she looked like she had no intention of going anywhere at the moment. Guess they were ordering in tonight - good girl, his Polly.

"Are you ready to resume our review?"

"Huh?" Trip answered from the floor where he was spread out on several of T'Pol's mediation pillows staring out the porthole.

"Are you ready to resume our review? We only have a few more hours to commit the specifics to memory."

"Sure, one more time..." and Trip began again. This time focusing all of his abilities on the task at hand. To make this work they were going to have to seem believable.

&&&&&&&&

And so the afternoon hours passed. By 1700 hours he thought he had it down -

The TerraZed 4 Outpost was a small colony of geologists and other scientists placed on the small planet to research several indigenous minerals. Among these, a compound labeled LS12 seemed to show some promise - as what? Well, that was one of the questions.

Another question was what had happened to the leader of the team researching LS12, a Dr. Kochi. He had been found dead days earlier, prompting Commissioner Bach'Tal's appeal to Enterprise. The death was suspicious although the exact cause of death was not immediately known. Actually, Kochi's death was just the latest in a series of suspicious incidents on TerraZed 4. Since LS12 had been identified the Outpost had experienced instrument malfunctions, unexplained communications failures and two Officers resigning their posts.  
  
The Vulcan High Command was still being tight lipped about the exact properties of LS12 but if they were knocking on their door, it must be something pretty special, he guessed. Whatever it was, the High Command didn't what to go through the usual channels, that was for sure.  
  
T'Pol had conferred with Bach'Tal regarding their cover and the enclave was expecting the Enterprise to transport a Dr. Sandor Tok and his wife tomorrow. The absence of Dr. Tok on Vulcan had been explained away by the fact that he had been educated off-planet where he had remained to do field work. He had only recently returned to Vulcan to marry. Dr. Tok was said to be from the very small polar region of Vulcan and one of the few fair haired Vulcans descended from a line called the Sec'Tarr. The Sec'Tarr were said to be especially rigid, fierce and almost reclusive. They figured that part wouldn't hurt either.

The Sec'Tarr generally married among themselves so T'Pol had applied a rinsing agent to her own hair and allowed Phlox to apply corneal shades to her eyes so that they would appear to be a light gray color.

The physical parts were done and over with but now they were cloistered together reviewing the mundane facts that would be needed to keep them incognito. And so through dinner and after, they went over their story.

Dr. Sandor Tok was a Vulcan geo-biologist that had spent the great majority of his adult life off world. His field of study was naturally formed rocks and minerals that exhibited both organic and non-organic properties. His wife, a Sec'Tarr female by the name of L'Arr. L'Arr was to be Dr. Tok's assistant in his work on TerraZed 4, which was necessary because Trip didn't know a damned thing about rocks.

Finally, his taskmaster of a wife seemed satisfied with his grasp of her set-up. God, she seemed a little turned on by this whole cloak and dagger business or was it his imagination?

Seeing her roll her eyes, he immediately knew that she had caught the drift of his thoughts.

"Trip, there is one more task that I would have us complete before our journey." As she spoke, she knelt down beside him. She made quite a picture.

He sat up in response, so that they were eye to eye.

"There is a Vulcan practice that is sometimes used when an older Vulcan requires additional ---" she hesitated briefly as she searched for the correct word, "mental support to maintain emotional discipline."

He smiled and teased in response, "and now I'm an old Vulcan? What next?"

She shook her head; "You are purposefully making this much harder than it need be. You are misinterpreting my words intentionally. This --- this verbal ---" again she searched for a word, "play of yours is distracting."

Leaning forward, he kissed her neck before answering her. "Aww, I thought you loved it when I talked to you --- at times like these."

A hand came up and planted itself firmly on his chest. She pulled back, resuming eye contact. One corner of that lovely month curled upward for a second - ahh, she was feeling indulgent, Trip thought to himself.

"That may be the case, but we have little time to devote to pleasure at the moment."

Something in her tone, settled him and he buckled down to be serious.

She gave a small nod, acknowledging his compliance. "As I was saying, there is a Vulcan practice that allows for one Vulcan to aid another in maintaining emotional discipline. Given, that you are to appear to be truly Vulcan over the course of several days if not weeks, I thought that it would be prudent for us to partake of this practice."

"So now you are saying that I don't have any 'mental discipline'?"

"As you would say, 'if the shoe fits'".

TBA


	9. Chapter 9 To Diminish

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 9

To Diminish

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life  
  
(2) I have climbed out from underneath a statistics textbook to bring this to you! And yes, I will try to make this a little longer. It depends on how long my youngest son will watch Jimmy Neutron!

What T'Pol said - Now that was a thought.

What with all the runnin' around and the make over, he'd not really given any thought to the fact that in order to pull their plan off, he was not only going to have to look the part, he was going to have to act the part.

He'd have to give it to her, she was right. He was going to need her help to make it work.

T'Pol's beautiful face beamed with satisfaction - she had him. She was right. Being right was always such a turn-on for his lovely wife that he actually didn't mind bein' wrong nearly as much as he made out. Unconsciously mimicking her arched bow with one of his own, he urged her to continue.

"Once more, there is a Vulcan practice that allows for one Vulcan to aid another in maintaining emotional discipline. It would be prudent for us to partake of this practice prior to beginning our journey."

Without conscious thought, he straightens his posture to one that has become familiar in the passing months. Assuming that they will connect, he makes to slide his hands across her temples. A large part of him relishes entering her in this way.

Her hands come up to grasp his own and bring them back to his lap.

Her voice is a bit more clinical than he has experienced in quite awhile. He immediately picks up that she is trying very hard to do this procedure correctly. This is something that she wishes to do well but it is something that she has never done personally. He again straightens and gives her a look that seems to project his acquiescence. Her own posture relaxes by a fraction as she reads his consent.

When she speaks again, it reminds him of a swimming lesson from childhood. It is as if she is patiently but thoroughly explaining a stroke before taking him out into deeper water. After she explains the details of the stroke, she then explains that it will feel unfamiliar at first but he is not to panic that she will be there to support him. His first instinct is to reassure her that he would follow her anywhere but he can tell that this is not the time for conversation.

"You may close your eyes. The recipient of the support is largely passive during this exercise."

Something in his expression pushes her to provide further information. "The more relaxed your mind, the more effective the support."

And with that, Trip's eyes close.

For several long seconds, she cannot continue with her task. Seeing him as such is simply too distracting in and of itself. Throughout their afternoon and evening, she has covertly avoided looking at him directly. Trip as a Vulcan. It is simply the most unsettling sight that she has ever encountered. She shutters slightly before focusing herself further. She cannot let her own misgivings and emotions diminish her ability to carry out this procedure.

Her fingers take their place on his brows, gently tracing their newfound slant before she can stop herself. He draws in a quick breath before settling back into a more meditative state. Something about his open expression there before her, despite the Vulcan countenance - causes her to pull back abruptly. She had thought to do this without fanfare and hand wringing but she finds she cannot.

Her hands go to his shoulders and provide him with a rousing shake. "Trip, Trip, before I --- before we continue, I wish to be more specific about this process."

Still shaky from coming out from a meditative state with zero preparation, he shakes his head as if to clear any cobwebs lurking about. He raises a hand to his tousled hair as he stifles a yawn. "Shoot."

She looks at him through the fringe of her lashes. "This procedure that I am proposing, as I said it is customarily performed when an elder Vulcan can no longer maintain his or her emotions. In a way, it actually works to diminish or blunt the emotions that the individual encounters."

Again finding himself faced with her half-formed worries, he cups her face in his hands, "Honey, I trust you. Ya' know that. Just spit whatever is bothering you out. I'd like to get on with this so we can have a little time to ourselves that's not focused on this blasted mission, if it's all the same to you."

Drawing a deep breath, she looks him in the eye. "I wanted to make you aware that you will most likely encounter blunted emotions as long as we maintain this connection. It will allow you to react in a manner more befitting an adult Vulcan male such as your 'Dr. Tok'. "

"I figured as much and ---?" He prompts her.

Her eyes are wet with unshed tears when she faces him, "I find that I am encountering a high degree of anxiety at the prospect of taking away your emotions." A single wet tear graces her cheek as she tries to explain. "It seems that I have taken too much from you already."

He quickly gathers her in his arms smoothing her lightened hair. "Darlin', it's OK. It's only for a few weeks at the most and let's face it, I seriously doubt that you could 'diminish' my hot head as much as you think! Come on' do your worst, we've got what's left of the night ahead of us."

Soon they are back where they were prior to T'Pol's guilty conscious. Her fingers resume their place on his beloved forehead and she says the familiar words to initiate the meld.

"My mind to your mind, your mind to my mind."  
  
She fights her natural instinct to simply sink into his thoughts, his emotions, everything that he is and disciplines herself to focus in on his emotional locus of control. She envisions creating a metaphorical wall around his emotions, taking them further and further away from his consciousness. As she focuses her metaphysical energy into the process, she feels a shift in the topography of his mind - almost a leveling off. As she retreats, she maintains a thread of contact so that she can continue to feed the wall that she has built for him. In time, he could learn to maintain such a wall himself but there is not time and she reminds herself, there is no need.

&&&&&&&&

As always, he feels her withdrawal from him. Cerebrally, he knows that he usually feels her loss so keenly that is something akin to suddenly losing a limb but this time it feels like he is watching a movie of her leaving him. He is feeling, sensing - his brain is getting the information it always does but it's like he's in a glass box or something to that effect.

He opens his eyes and finds her staring at him, obviously concerned, worried over the whole matter. He understands this, understands who she is to him - all of the facts, the memories are there - but that heart stopping feeling in his chest - it's missing. He thinks to himself - ahh, this is what she was concerned about. How can he be Trip without that almost physical emotion and a million other ones?

&&&&&&&&

"Are you well? Trip, speak to me."

"I'm fine, just takin' it all in."

His voice seems almost flat to her ears. She thinks to herself that she should not have done this and almost immediately goes to cut the link but then it occurs to her that this is the very effect that she desired.

He knows her well. He sees her agitation. He does not want her to feel badly. He reaches out to her again, this time pulling her into his lap. The contact soothes her. He feels satisfied with himself that he can calm her but he acknowledges the difference - the distance. It is just as she said.

A thought comes to him. "Is it? Is it like this for you? Always?" He wouldn't be able to even ask this without her magic, the question would crush him otherwise.

She speaks from the bend of his shoulder. "Once perhaps, it is a state that my people, my culture seeks - Solot'raan. It means the removal of emotion. It is a revered state."

"And now?" he presses.

"I do not find it to be favorable. You have shown me a new way. There are many things in the universe that cannot be truly evaluated with the mind alone."

He shifts her, taking her in his arms as he stands. "I want to make love to you." He says simply as he places her on the bed. He quickly follows her down and immediately makes a place for himself between her thighs.

He props himself up on his elbows as his fingertips deliberately trace over the sensitive tips of her ears. He watches her closely as her eyes dilate to become fathomless black pools. As he begins to rub himself against her in time with his wicked fingertips, her eyes close and she arches into him providing him with waves of much welcome pressure.

Part of him briefly wonders at the fact that he has never been able to focus so sharply on the physical sensations she brings him, the emotions have always taken an upper hand, pushing him on to completion. Now, he thinks - now he can have the upper hand in a more deliberate way.

Trip dispenses with their garments with almost businesslike movements and before T'Pol can catch his intention, her legs are hanging over the side on the bed and he is kneeling before her. His assault is so devastating that she can't mourn what she has lost for the sake of her damned Vulcan mission.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10 Emotional Interference

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 10

Emotional Interference

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

She awakens abruptly several minutes before the alarm. It isn't unusual for her to wake prior to the bell, her mind anticipating her day. Especially this day she thinks as she turns her head to regard her mate. 

His countenance is just as starling as it was yesterday. With a deep breath, she counsels herself to avoid over reacting to a dilemma of her own making. Truly, what could go wrong? She reassures herself that they will be in and out in a matter of days. Steeling herself for the day ahead, she is ready when the morning bell sounds.

&&&&&&&&

Within the span of one hour, they are ready. She has taken care to smooth Trip's hair back in a more controlled fashion than is his usual manner. Her Trip, as she has begun to think of him, would have made any number of comments during the grooming process but this Trip, this pseudo Vulcan Trip, has hardly ventured a word.

His sand colored garments and his accompanying gray cloak make for a pleasing picture with his coloring. At the thought, a spark of jealously rises within her breast. There was speculation that the now deceased lead scientist on TerraZed 4 was involved in a relationship outside of his martial relationship. She closes her eyes to still her errant thoughts but still they come. Vulcans are a possessive race she muses, which brings her to realize that this Trip will provide a pleasing Vulcan prospect for any Vulcan female who might wish to pursue him.

Her thoughts cause the air around her to stir and he focuses on her. If anything, the hours since their joining last night have solidified the dampening field around his emotions, his voice is calm and oddly flat when he speaks, his face serene.

"You are concerned over nothing."

She jumps at his words, the lack of inflection alien to her. His tone, his content inspires a very Vulcan response in her. "You are correct" she states formally.

She wonders for a moment if she somehow put a wall up between the two of them instead. Unsettlingly, he answers this worry too.

"In fact, I hear your thoughts even more clearly without the emotional interference."

She nods in response and tries to still her sadness. Her Trip would never categorize emotions as interference.

&&&&&&&&

When they reach the shuttle bay, they are met by a speechless Security Officer. 

Malcolm thought he had seen just about everything but this --- well, was something he could never have prepared himself for. He had been told that he was to pilot Trip and T'Pol to the TerraZed 4 Outpost and that they would be traveling under false identifies but no one had told him that Trip was now a bloody Vulcan!

A host of comments ran through his mind at light speed none of which thankfully made it out of his mouth. Something in Trip's stoic countenance urged him to re-evaluate any thought of making light of the situation.

With hardly a word between the three officers, the shuttle is off.

The hour-long flight is non-eventful. Malcolm has given up trying to eavesdrop on the few whispered words between his two passengers. His orders are to do nothing to give away their cover. He is transporting a Vulcan Scientist and his spouse to the planet - period.

&&&&&&&&

The landing on the damp, swampy planet is also non-eventful. When the usual maneuvers were done, Malcolm keyed in the code to open the shuttle's hatch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Trip and T'Pol stand with the few possessions that they've carried with them. From the looks of it, the cultural scientists have worked hard pulling their accessories together. They look more Vulcan than the Vulcan standing just outside the perimeter of the landing pad.

As he was briefed, Malcolm steps off the shuttle first and nods to their hosts. "Lt. Reed, USS Enterprise, at your service."

The stout Vulcan directly in front of him speaks, "Yes, we have no further need of you."

The man says no more and simply stands there. Malcolm muses that Vulcans have never been known for their social skills. After what seems like an eternity, the man looks beyond him to the figures standing in the hatch.

"Dr. Tok, I welcome you to TerraZed 4. We have been anticipating your arrival."

Two things strike Malcolm. First of all, the guy totally ignored T'Pol and secondly, he's never heard a Vulcan use the word 'anticipate'. That's almost a 21 gun salute as far as Vulcans are concerned.

As he turns back to the shuttle, he passes Trip and for a second attempts eye contact. No go - something is definitely up with Pointy Ear Trip. Whatever it was made him want to click the heels of his ruby slippers together three times and get the hell out of Oz.

&&&&&&&&

The stout Vulcan - Senior Project Director P'Low - continues his habit of only addressing Trip as he escorts the couple about the station making brief introductions. It is irritating to T'Pol even though it provides her with ample time to survey their surroundings.

The TerraZed 4 Outpost houses fifteen members of the Vulcan Science Council including Dr. Tok and his wife. Noting that there are only three other females - P'Low's wife, a cook and a technician - on the planet's surface, she briefly wonders if all women get similar treatment. Her research indicated that P'Low's wife of thirty years was quite unhappy at the station and had made no secret of wishing to be reassigned to Vulcan at the first opportunity. The other women were unknown quantities at this point.

To stem her boredom, she focuses in on Trip. Reaching him in this state is similar to speaking to someone who is underwater; their usually clear connection is distorted and hazy. When he catches her inquiry, he looks her way however briefly and pours his own energies into their link. Their communication improves somewhat but it is a poor imitation to the intimacy that she has come to expect.

&&&&&&&&

Finally after two long hours walking the corridors of that outpost, they are allowed a moment in their quarters.

As they had planned prior to leaving Enterprise, their plan is to scan the area for any bugging devices prior to speaking freely. Trip immediately makes eye contact with her with the door closes.

His voice is flat when he speaks, "My wife, I hope that these accommodations will be sufficient for your needs." His actions are a good deal busier as he makes quick work of his baggage, finding his scanning device without hesitation.

Almost as soon as he turns the device on, it lights up. He looks desperately at T'Pol. Their plan didn't really go into what they would do if they found a bug. Would they leave it or would they pull it. Acknowledging their weakened link, he takes her hands in his own and pulls her towards the bed to sit across from him.

"I find that I require some rest prior to our evening meal." He says as he feeds all of his energy into their link.

"I would also. Our journey was quite tiring." She says mechanically. Closing her eyes, she reaches for him.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11 Sufficent

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 11

Sufficient

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

(2)This is a fairly brief chapter that wrote itself. I want to thank Twin-Lance for his words of encouragement! Thanks to Narrxun & Trex Kitten - for reviewing so faithfully. Goshabyn, Nikitee and JennaTripped - hope you are still hanging in!

While their situation seems more precarious, T'Pol feels more relaxed as he reaches out for her. Yes, they are a team - a pair - none of this intrigue truly matters. Even without emotional attachment, logic binds them. They are stronger together, meeting on so many levels.

He kicks off his shoes and pushes off his cloak as he settles himself on the bed indian-style as he calls it. The familiar gestures warm her further and she mimics him, coming to sit in front of him.

Eyes close again as hands clasp. Heart rates synchronize. The connection - it is like the movie they saw the other week on Enterprise. The movie was in black and white. With his emotions bound as they are - that's how it seems.

_"Release me." _

The plainspoken words jar her and her eyes open abruptly. Serious blue eyes are open to meet her surprised gaze, and he releases one of her hands to cover her lips.

_"Don't speak." _

_"It isn't logical or prudent. The risks of discovery are great."_

_"Your distress is not logical, it beats at me."_

_"My distress, as you put it, is not our primary concern."_

He meets her gaze and she sees him. She SEES HIM. She sees Trip - just Trip - her lover, her partner, her husband. And suddenly, everything is well. Some exchange beyond mere words passes between them, some sort of shift.

_"You are well." _It was a simple statement not a question.

_"I am."_

_"Good. I would have it so always."_

Using his earlier words, she replies to him, _"I find you sufficient for my needs."_

Her words, her dry humor reaches him - dampening field and all. A smile graces his face.

_"Merely sufficient?"_

_"We shall see."_

After a companionable moment they close their eyes once again.

_"The bugging device? Can you tell - is it auditory or is there a camera as well?"_

_"If the readings are correct, it's a simple microphone - probably designed to come on when there is sound. From the directional sensor, it looks as if it's planted over in the air-filtering device. "_

_"Are there others?"_

_"I'll have to check but no, I don't think so. It doesn't seem to be a real sophisticated set up." _

_"Assuming there is only the one, the question is what do we do? To remove the device would be to alert whoever placed it here that we are aware of the surveillance."_

_"We may be able to use it to our advantage in time. I say we leave it. If we need to plant some information to our suspect this may give us a direct line."_

_"You are correct. Though, we will need to be careful with our spoken words." _She admonishes.

_"I have been so far."_

_"Yes. Yes, you have. You have proved quite adept at removing the many colloquial idioms from your speech."_

_"I have you to thank for my success, it seems my speech patterns are closely linked to my emotions. I feel less apt to break into song than usual."_

_"Another unforeseen benefit of the procedure."_

_"I love you - logically, objectively, emotionally, stoically - whatever theoretical construct we are operating under - I love you."_

His hands release hers and slide up underneath the open arms of her blouse, to caress her skin.

_"I don't think there is a bug in the bathroom. Could I interest you in some private time before dinner?"_

In response she opens her eyes and quickly opens her mouth, turning her head in the direction of the bugging device.

"Sandor, I wish to cleanse myself prior to our evening meal. Please excuse me."

And with that she heads towards what must be the bathroom, closing the door somewhat loudly. Seconds later the door opens silently to allow him entry.

_TBC_


	12. Chapter 12 Strange Alchemy

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 12

By Penmom  
  
(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

I think someone asked to follow our pair into the bathroom... Well today's your lucky day. AND - say thank you because these kind of things are a pain to write without sounding really silly so be gentle with the criticism!

I keep finding typos - sorry for the rewrites...I got embarrassed proof reading!

She turns her back to him as he enters. He closes the door without a sound.

Hiding behind the pretense of unbuttoning her outer shirt, T'Pol bends her head as if engrossed in her task. Somehow, she has become shy and hesitant. She wonders at these emotions. Her heart rate speeds as she senses his silent approach. An almost fearful anticipation overcomes her and she strives suppress such an illogical feeling.

He is her husband, her gentle husband - who makes her body sing. And still - he is much changed. Even with the reassurance of their recent exchange, she is much aware that his current mental state has allowed a strange alchemy to come to fore. With his gentler affections and human concerns pressed deep within his psyche, he is a compelling, and potentially lethal, mix of ancient Vulcan desires and rages coupled with the cold and deliberate logic that usually comes from years of training and study. Added to this are his unique human traits - his history, his wit, his creativity, his intelligence and above all his need to possess her.

She has glimpsed this need and has felt flattered by it, reassured by it and even vindicated by it but now ---. Now - without the balance of his human emotions - or even the deliberation with which he took her last night in their chamber - he approaches her with a fierce intensity that prickles her senses.

Never has she felt as if she were his prey, to be taken, as he would have her. He has been her willing partner, her equal, her gentle but passionate lover but even in height of their passion she has never felt this quiver in her belly. This feeling of sudden pursuit has submerged her in a flood of sensual excitement like she has never known. It calls to her in a way that might have shamed her if she had the will to examine it further.

Hesitatingly, she turns her head and finds herself looking up into blue eyes. She begins to turn but before she can move, his hands grasp her shoulders quite firmly.

Not chancing the sensor in the outer room, he speaks inside her mind, _"Don't. Don't move. Let me..." _

Something in those words - _let me_ - has he embedded his own mental push behind those words or is it a more primal magic? She doesn't know but she closes her eyes and gives herself up to him, a willing sacrifice.

His sure hands pull the loose shirt over her head and then peel the tighter remaining shirt off as well. Before the shirt hits the floor, his warm, callused hands are cupping her breasts, kneading them firmly. Her body responds immediately and she presses herself further into his hands. Her movement presses her into his hands and he accepts her plea, playing at the brown tips of her breasts as he moves his open mouth to the side of her neck.

He suckles firmly at her neck working toward her ear as his hands begin to play even more roughly, squeezing her in time with his own hips thrusting towards her bottom.

The feel of his arousal calls to her and she begins to rub herself seductively against him. A word comes to her. Only one - "_YES."_

It is enough to embolden her to continue her suggestive movements and she begins to enjoy this game. Just when she realizes that this --- thrusting back against his clothed form while he suckles the tip of her ear --- will be more than sufficient to shatter her completely, he pulls back with a growl and she again feels firm hands directing her movements.

One hand presses her completely against the wall while the other lifts up her skirts. He gives no regard to her undergarment simply tearing at its seams.

She is in no position to find fault with his treatment of her. She is in such a state that she is willingly tilting her body to receive him as soon as he will allow --- her whole body straining for his own.

He pauses a moment, releasing himself and in the silence, she realizes that she is whimpering - a pitiful, needy sound - she stops herself with some effort as her body pulses.

Again, his voice comes, _"No --- continue --- your cries."_

And with that, he plunges into her, hitting his mark, his hands holding her hips in a merciless grasp as he drives into her again and again, his breath harsh in her ear, in her mind.

Her own hands are flat against the wall. Her head is bowed, her forehead against the cool metallic surface. Her world is reduced to taking and taking again.

He catches her random thought and it fires him further. _"Take me, yes, take me." _

Another phrase begins to push through her consciousness as he continues his pace, over and over again - _"Wife." _She answers with another whimper and it is this sound that triggers him.

He pushes in further still - once, twice, on the third thrust - another simple word --- _"NOW."_

It is as if her very being is flying apart the tremors are so strong. It feels as if his orgasm is a tide lapping at her with thundering waves again and again until suddenly one wave is simply too strong...

He realizes what she is about to do before she begins in earnest --- his hand clasps itself over her mouth just as she screams. Still fearful of discovery, he takes his free hand and quickly positions it just so and presses the required nerve.

Her body goes limp immediately even as she continues to grasp him with aftershocks from her orgasm. He holds her about the waist and enjoys the physical sensations she brings him even now and slowly, a wry smile graces his somewhat feral expression.

TBA


	13. Chapter 13

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 13

Detective Work

By Penmom

(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

Well, after a long sabbatical from writing, a 2nd Masters Degree and life in general, I am back to writing. My kids are old enough now that every once in a while everyone is out of the house but me. I have received the most feedback from this story so I will start here. If you have been one of the folks holding on – this is definitely for you! Please let me know what you think, 'cause I am rusty.

(2) I am going to focus more on Trip & T'pol verses the who-done-it plot – I like relationship and character-driven stories so much more!

T'Pol quietly sighs to herself for not the first time in the last few hours. It feels as if the gravity on TerraZed 4 is twice the recommended limit for humanoid species. Perhaps it is just the company or lack there of?

For the past four days, she has been relegated to what has amounted to a small data hub in the corner of a larger room. In keeping with her guise as Dr. Tok's spouse, it had been arranged that while Dr. Tok is on the planet pursuing his work with LS12, his wife will pursue her own research. According to the information fed to TerraZed 4 by Commissioner Bach'Tal's connections, Dr. Sandor Tok's wife, Tel'ev, is an expert in the field of planetary meteorology; reasoning that while she is supposedly accessing the colony's meteorlogical records she can work to tap into more secure sections of the operation's data bases.

So far, she has reviewed thousands of shipping records with no particular fact standing out. Her next target will be the colony's communications. She finds herself hoping that Trip is having better luck.

******************

Dr. Sandor Tok has not ingratiated himself to any of the staff in the lab. Even for Vulcans the group is starting to look a little green around the gills. When he entered the lab four days ago, he had found a curious operation from what he knows of Vulcan standards. Records are not kept in one place and it seems that several different variations of the same notations are transcribed in journals, computer logs and god forbid, in one case, on the back of a napkin!

He is sure that the key to whatever is going on in this infernal place is in this lab. In an effort to both stall for time and do some detective work, he has ordered that the lab be put into order before any further work is begun. So for the past four days, eleven lab techs and two junior scientists have been made to recatalog every instrument, every compound, every damn molecule in the lab.

It is of particular interest that the Senior Project Director P'Low seems almost overly supportive of the delay. That just doesn't sit right with Trip. The lab has essentially been down since the death of Dr. Kochi yet the big chief seems fine with the zero productivity which again doesn't jive with the usual Vulcan persona.

Still, it is incredibly boring, frustrating work. If it wasn't for T'Pol's voodoo, he'd be screamin' about now. Even if outwardly he is as stoic as the rest of 'em.

******************

At 1720 hours, standard celestial time, T'Pol starts in on the communications records, all seems normal and as dull as ever when she notes a strange error code that continues to pop up every 30 or so transmissions. Rechecking the very basic data code programs being used, it is evident that someone has replaced the original outgoing code with a mock code to cloak the true transmission. Before she can self monitor, she feels her mouth turn to smile. She quickly looks around and does not see anyone but one can never be too careful. She makes a face like she is simply moving her facial muscles to combat fatigue. She repeats this several times in case her countenance is being recorded.

******************

At 1900 hours, standard celestial time, Trip is looking at several printouts, a pile of notes written in Vulcan and some kind of numeric code. He doesn't want to give himself away but while he can read Vulcan script like on the print out, the handwritten scribbles might as well be ancient Martian. The lab has some kind of elaborate espionage policy about leaving the notes in the lab at night but he decides he is going to break with protocol. T'Pol needs to look at this stuff and the sooner the better.

******************

At exactly 2000 hours, standard celestial time, Dr. Tok and his spouse meet in the common dining hall for the evening meal which is taken with all but one of the other fifteen inhabitants of TerraZed 4. For the third night since their arrival, P'Low's wife is absent. Seeing each other for the first time in many hours, both Trip and T'Pol strain to not appear at all eager to see each other. Each go to separate food lines before taking seats beside each other. Both P'Low and the two junior scientists from the lab take the other seats at the table. Again the conversation flows between the males at the table. Trip allows the conversation to be directed by the other men. Thank god that whatever kind of Vulcan he is supposed to be is especially unsocialable because he has little interest in keeping up the charade.

Finally one of the junior scientists, Ber'tal, he thinks, begins to relate a particularally long and boring story about a mountain range on a Vulcan moon. Trip seizes the opportunity to focus in on T'Pol. He lets his booted foot slide up against her ankle. Even through leather and fabric, he imagines he can feel her soft skin. On his second pass, he notices the pulse in her neck has begun to increase slightly. This oh so subtle movement makes him want to draw his teeth down the column of her neck; to tongue that strong pulse and to know that it beats for him only.

The strength of his desire shakes him for a moment. With T'Pol holding his bolder emotions for lack of a better term, he feels as if he rides between preternatural calm and violent fits of almost brutal instinct. It is all he can do to not take her on the damn table in front of God and everybody else.

Finally, the never ending hour is over and Dr. Tok and his spouse – whom he is only supposed to make love to every seven fucking years – depart for their quarters.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14 Alien Sensation

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 14

Alien Sensation

By Penmom

(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

(2) Thanks for the feedback. Keep it coming.

Trip shot his eyes to the door to the room's small bathroom.

As soon as the door quietly shut, he pivoted around and pressed her body into the door. His lips whispered in her ear and he breathed in her familiar exotic scent.

"Baby, you've got to let me go"

His whisper was rough and strained though it felt like a caress to her, prompting her to stand on her toes and run her lips over the point of the Vulcan ear presented to her in their current position.

The alien sensation of her lips grazing the sensitive tip of his ear pulled a harsh groan from him as he experienced a equivalent shock to his groin.

The jolt spurred him to give her a corresponding bite before dragging his forehead to rest on her own. The bite was only impulse on his part. There was no way Trip knew it was a Vulcan instinct driven by his bond with T'Pol.

The interaction touches her and once again, she experiences a cascade of emotions –guilt over where she has lead him, loneliness from this self imposed emotional and profound love and longing for him. Her eyes grow moist with the sheen of unshed tears.

"Let me go, let me feel you. Let me feel everything. I'm smotherin' here."

Trip's voice is low and incessant. His impassioned plea colored with his beloved Southern drawl cuts at her.

She knows it isn't prudent to risk loosing his emotions in this unfriendly place but she is so tired and it is so tempting to think of letting go – letting go of the great effort she is expending to keep his emotions, his very vitality, so tightly bound.

For centuries, the Vulcan discipline of Neuropressure has spoken to the numerous and complex links between the mental and the physical realms, but she has never felt the reality of this concept as she does now. It is as if she is carrying a great weight.

Their thoughts seem parallel – this charade is taking its toll on them both. With the dynamics that fuel their relationship so severely suppressed, it is as if they are both smothering from lack of air.

In tandem, they stand foreheads touching, their eyes momentarily closed.

Trip opens his eyes first, the knowledge that there is an active listening device in the room sucked – there was no other word for it. He would like nothing more than to smash the inferior little bug between his fingers. Unfortunately, that is not to be. Logically, it is better to feed whoever is listening bogus information. With a silent sigh, his eyes meet T'Pol's.

It suddenly strikes him that she looks awful. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin is almost translucent. Her eyes are flat – no spark – just fatigue. Even without that spark, his is drawn to those eyes. His mind is made up, all this mess be damned, they need to be together. They need to connect – to each other, to who they really are. Screw the whole Vulcan empire.

At first this all seemed acceptable – a means to an end but now he feels as if his emotions – his whole self - have received a big ol' shot of Novocain from the dentist. Every feeling, every thing he held dear is blunted, distorted. Part of him is missing and from the looks of it the part is firmly crushing T'Pol's shoulders.

He moves quickly once he comes to his decision. He grasps her hand and pulls her the few steps into the small bathroom. As soon as the door shuts, he presses her back against the metal door.

Trip's plea, coupled with the feeling of his body immediately pressing into hers, heralds her surrender. She slides her hands up to his sweat drenched temples. Seeing her intent, he immediately mirrors the action. The flawless application of the uniquely Vulcan pose, paired with his stoic visage, startle her one a moment. It has been disconcerting to experience this alien Trip. In some ways, this Vulcan doppelganger is a nightmare of her own making

It is as if by his association with her, she has taken away all that made him unique, everything that he is and replaced him with the cold automaton he once accused her of being.

Her distraction prompts him to ease his thigh between her own, applying enough pressure to rouse her from her thoughts.

She closes her eyes and looks inward. She immediately feels the psychic barrier. The sensation of Trip bearing down in an attempt to breech her defenses is almost frightening. His psychic abilities have more than doubled since they first bonded. The realization bombards her with more worry, more guilt. She realizes that Trip – her Trip – has been shielding her from some of his more disconcerting new gifts.

Her head feels as if it is splitting, this stoic Trip is relentless in his pursuit to have his emotions returned to him. Another stray thought crosses her mind, a truly free Trip would never push into her mind almost savagely, only intent on obtaining his desire with no empathy or thought given to her fragile state. This revelation is enough to bring down her tightly held guards down with a violent jolt.

Suddenly, several things happen all at once. Metaphysically, the process is identical to a literal dam breaking. The emotions she has been holding rush back in a furious instant as equilibrium is sought. The force of the action is great and immediate as the under tow drags them both under.

****************

He comes to with a big ol' crick in his neck. Damn, he feels like he's got one hell of a hangover. Slowly, cautiously, he opens his eyes only to quickly shut them.

The bright light is just too harsh. With eyes closed, he gingerly feels for T'Pol, tracing her delicate shoulders, graceful neck, and the tips of her ears. Intuitatively, he knows she is still out. God knows she deserves some sleep.

Even with his head pounding, he feels better than he has in days. Without conscious thought, he shifts T'Pol in his arms so that she rests comfortably against his chest. Reaching up behind him he switches off the primary light behind before opening his eyes once again.

This time when he opens his eyes, the room glows with the low green auxiliary lights that run around the bottom of the walls. That helped.

He makes a note to himself – don't do that again. He can manage just fine, he just won't crack a smile. Which won't be too hard around this dull as doornails place. How in the hell was he 'posed to figure out what the hell was going on around this place when he couldn't use his gut.

He gives his head a roll, only to hear it pop which gives him an idea – Neuropressure first then solve this mess and get the hell out of here.


	15. Chapter 15 Ultimate Purpose

The Man in Her Life

Chapter 15

Ultimate Purpose

By Penmom

(1) Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life

(2) Honestly, I wanted to finish this and the last scene popped up so I glossed over my "who done it."

(2) Thanks so much for the feedback & hanging in there for so long.

_He makes a note to himself – don't do that again. He can manage just fine – emotions and all… How in the hell was he 'posed to figure out what the hell was going on around this place when he couldn't use his gut?_

_He gives his head a roll, only to hear it pop which gives him an idea – Neuropressure first then solve this mess and get the hell out of here._

On second thought, get the hell out of Dodge and then he can have all the lovin' he wants – damn the voyeuristic freaks.

He shakes T'Pol gently, "Darlin' wake up."

It takes him a couple more prompts to rouse her which just ticks him off all the more. She's exhausted and for what – some damn errand for Vulcan!

Her deep set almond eyes finally settle open. "Trip", there is a question somewhere in that one word. She seems so vulnerable to him now – so very far from what her society had pressed her to be…

OK, that thought settled it. He was going to tear this gray rock apart and then get her the hell out.

* * *

She sighs as she arches her back. His hands expertly play along her neural nodes releasing several weeks' worth of stress. Undue stress – the owner of said hands would say.

For much of their union they had danced around concepts like ultimatums, promises, boundaries. Those kinds of concepts that hovered around irrevocable statements that could somehow force decisions that neither of them was ready to make. Somehow their latest adventure – as Trip so sarcastically labeled it - had made it clear that decisions needed to be made.

Strangely enough, now that the time had come to close some doors for good, it felt acceptable; it felt right as Trip would say. When their minds linked and blended there was no discord. They were truly of one mind. Neither of them would put their loyalties, their affiliations before their relationship. If their careers suffered so be it, they would find a way. They had already found what Vulcan's called their "s'lantatnota" – their ultimate purpose – they have found each other.

The END


End file.
